Meet the Family
by Althea Robinson
Summary: Reader x Mike Nesmith. For The Monkees Holiday Gift Exchange 2015. Mostly just fluff. Please enjoy!


Mike turned off the engine to his car in front of a big, rickety, old building that looked like it was made out of driftwood. He made no move to get out. He just sighed. You both sat there silently for a moment. He took off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair.

You'd never seen him so uptight before.

"Are we going to go in?" You asked.

"You sure you're ready for this?" He asked.

"C'mon. You already met my family." You said. "How much worse could yours be?"

"I don't think you understand…" He started.

"They're your friends, Mike." You interrupted. "If you can put up with them, I'm sure I can too."

He smirked at that.

"You're right." He said, and finally pulled the key out of the ignition.

He opened the passenger's side door for you, and took you by the hand. He led you up a few creaky steps into a spacious atrium, whose walls were decorated with random signage and… was that a giant theatre mask?

Mike opened the door to one of the apartments, and held it for you.

"Welcome to our humble estate." He said, motioning dramatically into the room.

You stepped inside, and were about to thank him, when a figure swung down the staircase, and directly into you. You would have fallen over if Mike hadn't caught you from behind. The young fellow who had knocked into you held out a hand for you to shake.

"Hey there, welcome!" He exclaimed.

Realization washed over his boyish face as he watched Mike help you back to your feet.

"It's you…Oh gosh! It's you!" He said.

"I see you've met my roommate, Micky." Said Mike, glaring at his flustered friend.

"Hi, Micky." You said, stifling a laugh at his ridiculous antics, and even more ridiculous hair. "I've heard a lot about you."

"Well…It was all Peter's fault, you see…" Micky tried to explain.

"Did I forget to tell you he's also a pathological liar?" Mike quipped.

"Mostly good things, Micky." You clarified.

"You too," said Micky. "I mean, Mike's always bragging on you, so I figured you must be a really groovy person. He said you were coming over, but we didn't know it was going to be so soon. Davy'n'Peter'n'I were going to set up for a really romantic date for you guys, but we ran out of time. I guess we lost track because of the whole thing with Ringo…"

"Ringo?" You questioned. You'd heard about Micky, and a Davy and a Peter, but Mike had never mentioned a Ringo.

"Ringo?" Mike echoed, sounding even more bewildered than you.

"Uh…Yeah. Ringo the goldfish. We were walking past that creepy carnival on the pier today. Some chick gave Peter a ticket for one of the games, and he won a goldfish. We figured Mr. Babbitt would be fine, because it won't make any mess, or noise or anything."

"Yeah, I guess so." Mike said, furrowing his brow. "Well, are you going to let us in, babe, or are you just going to stand there at the door?"

Micky's brown eyes widened.

"Whoa, yeah! Sorry!" He moved out of the way and bowed with a flourish.

"Sir. Madam." He said in a corny British accent.

You glanced around the pad. It was really a wild place. That was okay. It seemed to fit Mike and his friends quite well.

There was a wooden dummy in the corner- that was a bit creepy- along with a stuffed monkey. The drum kit was set up in front of the large window that looked out onto the ocean. It really wasn't as shabby as Mike had made it out to be.

Micky scrambled to clear a half-folded pile of clothes of the couch so you could sit.

You finally noticed the other two roommates, who stood around the kitchen table fussing over something in an old teapot.

"He looks awfully lonely in there, Davy." Said the taller, blonde one, who you deduced was Peter. "Are you sure we shouldn't release him back into the ocean?"

"Peter, how many times do I have to tell you? He's a freshwater fish!" Said the little Englishman beside him. "You can't put a freshwater fish in salt water."

Peter grabbed the salt shaker from the center of the table.

"Maybe if I add some salt to his bowl first." Said Peter.

Davy snatched the salt shaker from Peter's hand.

"Peter, you can't… Oh, hello there!" He said, finally noticing you.

He looked intrigued at your presence. Mike came up behind you, and put an arm around your shoulder.

"Peter, Davy. You guys remember I said I had someone to introduce to you." He said.

"Oh, that's you!" Davy exclaimed. The curiosity in his eyes replaced by surprise.

"Welcome to our mumble abode!" Peter said enthusiastically. He realized his mistake, blushed, and looked down at his feet. "I mean, humble abode." He mumbled.

"So, we going to the beach or what?" Asked Micky, who was suddenly at Mike's other arm.

"Well, we can I guess." Said Mike. He looked over at you. "What do you want to do? Probably seen enough of the pad already."

"It's not as bad as you said." You replied, "But sure, the beach sounds great. It's nice that you guys are so close."

"It's super groovy." Said Micky, who was already rummaging around in the closet for a beach ball, and making a mess all over the floor in the process. "We're down there every day."

"Micky's in the water so much, he's two-thirds fish." Said Davy.

"No, I told you. I'm two-thirds dolphin." Corrected Micky.

"He's right Davy." Peter said seriously, "dolphins aren't fish. They're ambidextrous."

You barely stifled a giggle.

"I think you mean amphibious, Pete." Said Micky. "But dolphins are mammals, anyways."

"Well, would you sea slugs hurry up?" Asked Mike, taking your hand again as he walked towards the back door. "There's a good day a wastin' out there."

"Alright." Said Peter. "I'll bring Ringo."

Davy buried his face in his hand. "Peter, no."

You all played a few rounds of volleyball with the beach ball Micky had found and inflated. Micky wanted you on his and Davy's team, because he said it would make up for Davy's being so short, (Davy was quite offended at that). Mike decided to put you and Davy on his team, and let Peter and Micky fend for themselves.

The game disbanded after the three of you had won four or five matches. Peter asked Davy to try teaching him how to skip rocks again. Davy hesitantly agreed.

"Mike, you wanna race?" Micky asked.

"No." Mike replied.

"C'mon. We haven't done it in months." Micky pouted.

"That's because you always cheat!" Exclaimed Mike.

"Well, it's not really cheating. It's just changing the rules of the game. And I won't do _that_ this time." Said Micky.

"But Mick, I've got a guest." Said Mike.

"Well, we'll need a referee, since Peter's busy." Suggested Micky.

Mike sighed. "That alright with you?" He asked.

"I'm worn out from the volleyball game anyway." You smiled.

"Alright!" Exclaimed Micky. "So, Mike'll throw the volleyball out as far as he can. We're gonna see who can get there first. You can stay here on shore and make sure no one cheats."

"Got it, Captain." You replied.

"Don't encourage him." Mike said, rolling his eyes.

"Understood, Admiral Nesmith." You quipped.

Mike tossed the volleyball into the ocean. You were impressed at how far it went. The two boys ran into the water, and started thrashing towards it. Mike pulled ahead quickly. When Micky reached the halfway point, he started to slow down, and then to struggle. He was sinking.

You jumped to your feet.

"Mike!" You called.

He'd somehow seen it, and was already swimming towards his drowning friend. You paced a bit, wishing there was something you could do.

Mike dragged Micky to shore, and bent down over him in the sand. You ran over to his side. Micky's eyes were closed. Mike listened for breathing, and Micky's eyes opened. A smirk crawled over his face.

"You gonna perform mouth-to-mouth?" He whispered in Mike's ear, then started giggling hysterically.

Mike stood, and kicked sand in his face.

"Micky Dolenz, you're the sorest loser ever knew."

He took you by the arm, and left his roommate coughing and sputtering.

"Let's take a walk down the beach." He said. "Just the two of us."

By the time you arrived back at the patch of beach in front of the pad, the sun had nearly finished setting. You sat down in the sand, and he wrapped his arms around you. You leaned on his chest. He was warm, and the sea breeze was cool. You thought you might fall asleep right there.

"Wait a minute," said Mike. "Where'd all these candles come from?"

You looked up and saw about a dozen little tea lights floating on the surface of the water.

"Your friends must have put them there." You said.

"You know, for complete nut-cases, they really aren't so bad." He said.

"Just like any other family." You said.

The sun went down, and the tea lights looked like tiny stars that had fallen down out of the Milky Way. The two of you still sat together, by the ocean, when the candles had floated out of sight, and the sky had turned a pale pink once again.


End file.
